Like A Broken Record
by DewleafWolf
Summary: Mallory x OC (girl x girl) / During the apocalypse, Mallory falls in love with a captivating yet aloof girl named Kat, but all is lost when she performs Tempus Infinituum and reverses time. Like a broken record playing one verse on repeat, the conflicted Mallory sets out to find Kat in the restored timeline with the hopes of regaining what she sacrificed to save the world.
1. A Duck, For You, Miss Mallard

**A/N:** Major spoilers and some explicit language ahead. Could become mature later on.

• • •

 _| Mallory's POV | Flashback: 1 year at the outpost. |_

• • •

"You can't tell me you've never tried it," Kat exclaimed in disbelief.

I shook my head, staring up at the ceiling. "Bananas and _mayonnaise_? On a sandwich? You can't tell me you _have_ tried it, you sociopath."

She turned onto her side and propped her head up with her elbow.

"I bet you'd change your mind if some banana and mayonnaise sandwiches appeared right now, Mallard." She smirked at the use of my nickname.

Still lying on my back, I groaned. "You're right. I would kill for any real food right now, even your nasty sandwich concoctions."

She laughed, and I turned onto my side to watch her face light up. There wasn't much room on my twin size bed, but we didn't mind getting close as we talked and laughed nearly every night on this bed. While the Purples got fancy suites, us Grays each got the simple dorm rooms with twin beds. Not exactly fair, but I didn't make the rules.

But amidst all the stupid, made-up rules and daily torment of living in that hellhole of a "sanctuary," Kat and I came to rely on our secretive daily hangouts to stay sane. As Grays, much of our days were spent serving the Purples, or at least socializing with them, so we cherished our privacy and were happiest in only each other's company.

And I loved seeing her laugh. In an underground, candlelit bunker hidden beneath a world of nuclear winter, her smile seemed to be the one beautiful thing spared by the fallout. I often thought about when I had first arrived and felt so alone, so degraded by the only "friends" I came with. Then Kat arrived.

I barely ever saw Kat smile, and she seemed to trust no one, so I remember feeling as if earning her approval would be my biggest achievement yet. And just like that, there we were, one year later, lying side-by-side on my bed, arguing about unpopular snacking habits. Granted, it took about four months for us to stop hating the world long enough to like each other, another two months to actually let down our guards down and trust each other, and the past six months for our friendship to actually grow. And boy, did it grow-like wildfire.

We got quiet, and I saw her searching for something in my face.

"Mallory, do you think we would have been friends in high school, or college?" she asked.

"You mean," I replied, "if we had met under circumstances other than an underground bunker shielding us from the apocalypse?"

"Yeah, yeah. You know, if we met at fifteen in a cafeteria, would you sit with me?"

I thought hard for a moment. Thinking about my past was like trying to look through a dense cloud of fog, but I could faintly recall my personality at fifteen years old.

"No, because I sat alone at lunch. You definitely would have intimidated me, and I never would've approached you willingly."

She seemed to pout a little. "Well, I would have sat with you," she flipped her dark auburn curls in a jokingly sassy manner. "I bet you were adorable at fifteen. Little Mallard."

At that comment, my heart fluttered. I guess I liked the idea of her thinking I was adorable.

"I was alright," I replied sheepishly.

"I think we would've been friends for sure," she said. "I can see us always being friends, ya know?"

Just as quickly as my heart fluttered, it simultaneously dropped. _Friends._ I don't know why the word bothered me. But at the same time, I do know. Because I often barely breathed whenever we touched, and I was always mesmerized by her voice, and I frequently caught myself thinking about her for no apparent reason, and I got butterflies the moment she mentioned not being straight. So, I suppose I do know exactly why the word "friends" bothered me, but I had no right to be bothered, and we both needed a friend anyway.

"Of course," I agreed.

"Did you ever fall in love before the world went to shit?" Kat asked, a tinge of sorrow on her face.

I shook my head. "No, I didn't. I never found anyone that I cared about enough. Did you?"

She looked down and seemed to ponder for a while. "I'm not sure. I mean, I dated, but I was never in love with the people I dated. But before the war, I had a best friend-not Emily, I mean she was my best friend too, but we had another friend, Aubrey-and I suppose I was rather hopelessly in love with her."

I could hear the sadness in her voice. "That's one of my biggest regrets, throughout this whole clusterfuck," she added. "Not telling her how I felt. I guess I'm not good at dealing with emotions."

I knew exactly how she felt. My heart hurt because she hurt, and even though I wanted nothing more than to be that person she cared so much for, a part of me wished she had lived happily ever after with Aubrey.

"I'm sorry, Kat," I said. "You never think the people you love could die tomorrow, so you don't tell them how you really feel. Especially your best friend, because you're scared of ruining your friendship."

I could relate. It was a tragedy that we were both too familiar with.

I don't know what possessed me, but I brought a comforting hand up to her face and caressed her cheek. Her sad gray eyes flashed up to mine, and something electric filled the air between us.

Before I could react, her face was moving closer to mine, and my entire body felt on fire.

Ms. Venable's cane stomped on the hard floor outside my door. We both jumped and sat up, Kat clearing her throat. I could have sworn we shut the door, but I suppose we didn't.

"Ms. Venable," I muttered.

"It's past curfew. Everyone should be in their own rooms," Ms. Venable barked. Her tone was firm but smug, as if she was thankful to have had the opportunity to ruin our day.

Kat gave a mocking smile. "Of course, Ms. Dictator."

"What was that?"

"I said of course, Ms. Venable," Kat rolled her eyes and stood up. She turned and gave me a defeated salute. "Night."

I offered a nod of defeat. "Good night."

Ms. Venable stiffly continued her patrol, followed by a reluctant Kat. Once they were gone, I fell backwards onto my bed, huffing at the ceiling above.

Barely a minute later, however, my door swung open and I sat up to see Kat rushing through.

"I almost forgot to give you this," she exclaimed with a grin, pulling something out of her pocket. It was an origami duck, striped with lines of black print. "I stole a page from some book about magic herbs and shit. It's a duck, for you, Miss Mallard." She handed it to me.

I smiled widely and took it. "I love it." I looked up to thank her, but she had already left.

I traced the edges of the paper duck with my fingers, imagining Kat's pale hands delicately crafting it in seclusion, thinking of me. I added the duck to the growing collection of origami shapes in my nightstand drawer, purposely placing it next to the paper cat that I had requested from Kat a while back. I thought it was fitting to have the mallard and the cat be together.

As I fell asleep, I imagined how Kat and I might address what almost happened between us that night. But, the truth is that we never talked about it. We never acknowledged it and never confronted the feelings that we knew we felt. Instead-for the next six months-we buried our emotions with the rest of the forsaken world and dealt with the demanding challenges of the outpost.

• • •


	2. Make Me Remember

_| Kat's POV |_

• • •

It was Halloween night, and everyone gathered in the music room for a ridiculous costume party. Unlike the Purples, us Grays weren't dressed up, but we did have makeshift masks on. I wore a simple black eye mask and kept it lifted, occasionally scanning the room to see if Mallory had arrived. Naturally, she and her tyrant boss Coco were late to the party, and I had no doubt it was due to Coco's desire for a dramatic entrance.

With it being our night of "celebration," the Grays didn't have much work to do, so I stood off to the side of the fireplace, eavesdropping on a few of the mouth-breathers arguing about the source of our Halloween surprise: pristine red apples.

"I know," Mr. Gallant piped up with confidence. "It's symbolic. It's the Garden of Eden—apples from paradise. It's obviously from The Sanctuary," he declared.

"We should say grace to thank the universe for sending them to us," Dinah chimed in an eerily cheerful tone.

"Ugh, you are so fucking annoying," Andre rebutted.

Ms. Mead barked back, "Enough. Ms. Venable said everyone will get a chance to bob for apples later."

I rubbed my temples at the idiocy in this room. Suddenly, someone cleared their throat, and we all looked up to see Mallory standing on the second floor balcony. The little black veil over her face wavered as she spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present: Ms. Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt," Mallory announced in a monotone voice. Her face was unamused.

I snorted audibly. _You gotta be fucking kidding me._

As Mallory stepped to the side, in walked Coco, complete with her hair in an elaborate updo, a lacy black mask, and a fancy purple gown.

Gallant cleared his throat loudly. "Can we clap, please? Thank you."

Everyone applauded, and I just rolled my eyes, earning a scowl from my dear enemy Gallant.

Mallory walked down the stairs and stood next to me.

"Jesus Christ, Coco's appearance tonight better earn her a spot in The Sanctuary or I'm personally castrating Langdon," she huffed dryly, sounding drained. She looked so cute with her glasses peeking through her little veil mask and a few strands falling from her hair dick.

I scoffed at her remark. "I surely hope _Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt_ is not going to repopulate the human race," I said, mocking Mallory's flat announcement voice when saying Coco's name.

Ms. Venable appeared from behind Coco, causing her to scatter. Ms. Venable proceeded to go on a tangent about All Hallows' Eve, dead people, and how _everyone_ was intended to celebrate tonight. She turned on the radio, and "Baby I'm-A Want You" by Bread began playing. An odd tune for partying, but whatever, Ms. Venable.

Everyone began dancing to the slow beat—Coco with Gallant, Andre and Dinah, Timothy and Emily. I gave a sideways smirk to the stone-faced Mallory, then bowed and held out my hand.

"May I have this dance, Mallard?"

Her perpetually pursed lips cracked into a small smile, along with a slight eye roll. I couldn't see her cheeks beneath the mask, but her ears were tinged pink. I was living for it.

She placed her hand in mine, and I greedily pulled her to the center of the room, spinning her—which elicited a slight giggle—before pulling her close to me. We swayed to the music, and before I could come up with any of my usual witty banter, Mallory softly put her head on my chest. It was quite possibly the sweetest thing I had ever experienced, and my heart fluttered. My Mallard seemed so tired, and so confused lately. She had told me all about her weird experiences with shooting fire at Langdon, her slight identity crisis, and Coco's asshole attitude towards her. Even she and I had been arguing lately. I just wanted to take her away from it all, but I couldn't. So I settled for holding her close to me and moving to the rhythm of the song.

I rested my cheek against her hair. I could feel something inside me rising up, like fire, and it was making its way out of my mouth as words before I could stop it.

"Hey, Mal," I said softly.

She lifted her head to meet my gaze. "Hm?"

"I feel like I should tell you something." My stomach had butterflies.

She blinked from beneath her mask and glasses. "Yeah?"

"I—uh, I think I lo—"

The music stopped, and Ms. Mead's voice pierced the air.

"We will now bob for apples," Ms. Mead declared.

Mallory and I stepped away from each other as Ms. Mead passed between us to herd everyone closer to the pool of apples.

Mallory grabbed my hand. "Kat? What is it?"

I laughed nervously. "It's nothing. Nevermind." I waved my hand dismissively, pretending not to notice Mallory's look of disappointment.

We happened to be closest to the apples, so Ms. Mead gestured for Mallory to bob for one. She hesitantly walked up to the bucket, removed her mask, and took a deep breath before dunking her face into the water. She quickly caught an apple between her teeth and was met with a round of cheer and applause from everyone.

Before she could bite into it, Ms. Venable's voice interrupted the excitement.

"Let's all wait," she commanded, "until each person has had an opportunity to participate in tonight's activities. Then we will feast together like civilized beings."

I went next and caught my apple for the evening, then we watched as everyone else bobbed for apples as well. I saw Ms. Mead and Ms. Venable chattering in a hushed tone on the balcony, which struck me as suspicious, but they were always busy with their own creepy dictatorship duties anyway.

Once everyone had apples in hand, Mallory drifted from my side as Gallant began questioning her about where Coco had run off to. Meanwhile, I noticed one of the more quiet Grays—Jeff—was discreetly rushing out of the room. While everyone else was busy chatting away about their apple bobbing skills and excitement for real fruit, I trailed after him. He went down the hallway and turned out of sight towards the bathroom, but when I caught up to him, I saw him collapse.

"Oh God, are you okay?" I asked, turning him over.

He simply looked up in horror, clutching his stomach. His apple, with a bite taken out of it, rolled from his hand. Bloody yellow foam suddenly spilled from his mouth, and his body convulsed.

My hand flew over my mouth as I nearly screamed, but my mind quickly connected the dots and I realized the situation. _They're poisoning us._

I immediately decided to rush back into the music room and scream for everyone to drop their apples, but by the time I ran back, every single person was on the floor, retching and convulsing. I saw my beautiful Mallory dying on the floor, and I felt a wave of blinding panic, but I knew I couldn't do a single thing to stop what was already done. Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead wanted us all dead with no witnesses, and if I gave away the fact that I was still alive, they would kill me some other way, so I collapsed in my tracks at the doorway in case they were to search the room. I stared wide-eyed at my Mallory's motionless body, tears streaming from my face.

Sure enough, Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead descended from the balcony to stroll around the room and marvel at their work. I stayed motionless on the floor as they stepped over me.

"And here's the trick," Ms. Venable gloated. "Now, that went off rather well, don't you think? Little messier than I would have hoped."

"Least we don't have to worry about cleaning up," Ms. Mead remarked.

"We shouldn't keep Mr. Langdon waiting," Ms. Venable pointed out.

With that, the two of them quickly left the room and headed upstairs. Once they were out of sight, I crawled towards Mallory and gathered her lifeless body in my arms. I felt hot tears pour from my eyes, and I could barely breath. I wiped the foam from her face and immediately tried breathing into her mouth, then performing CPR with shaky hands, but nothing seemed to work.

I pulled her body close to mine and sobbed into her clothes. I saw my apple on the ground, untouched, and knew that eating it would be my only escape from this hell. Yet, in this moment, all I could do was hold Mallory tightly and wish that she was alive, and that we could escape the outpost together.

"Please, Mallory, please. You can't leave me," I wept.

My eyes were shut tight as I just pictured, over and over again, Mallory being alive, breathing and moving and smiling. It almost felt real—her being alive—the more I imagined it and sobbed into her soft skin. I could feel a strange heat growing between our bodies, and I wished more than anything for her to come back.

Suddenly, I felt all energy leave my body, as if I had been simultaneously punched in the stomach and drained of half my blood supply. But just as quickly as I lost my breath, Mallory gained hers.

She gasped, then turned over and coughed onto the ground. I was speechless as more tears flooded my face, and once she caught her breath, I hugged her so tightly. It was probably the first and only time I had ever cried in front of her—or at all.

"Mallory, I thought you were dead," I exclaimed, pulling back to look at her and feel her face with my hands.

"I—I think I was," she muttered in disbelief. "I was dead."

I didn't understand. "I just kept telling myself you couldn't die," I stammered through tears, confused, "because I can't live without you. I just can't, Mallory. I just kept imagining you alive, and I—"

Mallory placed her hands on my cheeks and pulled my face to hers, smashing her lips against mine in a kiss. Our faces were wet with tears, and we were both shaking, but I kissed her back as hard as I could.

When we separated, she rested her forehead against mine.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too," I choked out.

"Come on," Mallory said, taking my hand as we stood up and rushed out of the room. I glanced back, sobered by the image of everyone dead on the floor, scattered like exterminated pests, including my old best friend Emily.

As we entered the foyer, the fire pit lit up in flames, and three women in black gowns stormed through the main entrance. They wore no protective gear but were seemingly unaffected by the radiation. Confused, we paused and stepped backwards defensively. I instinctively blocked Mallory in a protective manner.

"Are you The Cooperative?" I asked, trying to sound bold, but my voice wavered.

"No, bitch," the slim, young blonde girl on the left scoffed at me.

"Mallory, you're alive," the slightly older, blonde woman in the middle commented with a smile.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mallory defensively asked, her voice quiet and suspicious.

Ignoring her question, the woman spoke to the two others. "Find our sisters."

The two of them went separate ways, seemingly on a mission. The remaining woman gestured to Mallory.

"My name is Cordelia. I know you must be scared, Mallory. But I am going to need you to listen. I'm sure you've been confused about who you are, but I can show you _everything_. I just need you to trust me and sit right here in front of me," she said, her voice calm and sure.

Mallory met my gaze for a moment, and I nodded hesitantly for her to follow the instructions. It wasn't like we had any better plans to escape. As she walked over and sat in front of this stranger, the other women returned. The young blonde brought the body of Dinah Stevens with her, and the eldest woman with insane red hair delivered Coco's body. They each lay the women out on their backs, on either side of Mallory.

I was extremely confused. I had no idea who these people were, why these dead bodies and Mallory were being summoned, or how any of us planned to escape the outpost alive and with any chance of surviving the nuclear wasteland. Nevertheless, these women seemed so confident and strong, and they seemed to be allies, so I stood back against the wall and watched as the events unfolded.

Cordelia walked over to Coco, leaned down, and exhaled into her face. She repeated the process with Dinah, then stood in front of Mallory. She held a hand over Mallory's head, closed her eyes, then raised both hands as if she was lifting the sky, taking a deep and powerful breath.

As she did this, both Coco and Dinah sprung to life, sitting up and gasping as their bodies became reanimated. Mallory similarly seemed to jolt with energy and gasp softly. She slowly removed her glasses, suddenly able to see without them. My eyes were wide with shock, and my body was numb. I couldn't believe that I had just watched two people come back from the dead, and I wondered what just happened to Mallory. _Are these people even human?_

The three women seemed to smile at their work. The young blonde stepped in front of Mallory and squatted to meet her at eye level.

"Surprise, bitch," she smirked, "I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."

"I don't know what's going on," Mallory stated.

The red-headed woman spoke in a truly mystical accent, "Poor dears. To be released from an identity spell or raised from the dead—both rather disorienting occasions."

"Can someone please tell me what's going on? What do you mean, identity spell?" Mallory demanded, standing up to look Cordelia in the eyes.

"We placed it on you, for your protection," Cordelia responded. "Coco, too. It kept you from knowing your true self."

"Why?" Mallory asked.

"Because you're special, Mallory," Cordelia answered with a proud smile. "You are a very powerful witch. Try to remember."

Mallory's eyebrows furrowed as she seemed to dig deep into her memories. Her face suddenly relaxed. "The identity spell. To hide us. To save the coven, and the world. I remember." She looked at the blonde girl, "Madison," then the red-headed woman, "Myrtle. Cordelia."

Coco nodded, "I remember, too."

My mind raced. I remembered Mallory confiding in me about her seeming to shoot fire with her mind, Langdon's evil presence, Mallory's feelings about having someone buried inside her, my imagination bringing her back to life... _Witch?_

I piped up from the corner. "Excuse me, I have no _fucking_ idea what is going on here."

Madison rolled her eyes. "Who invited the fucking mortal to the party?"

"Madison," Mallory said in a warning tone. Madison was immediately silenced. It was surprising to see the girl who had always been bossed around possess any level of authority. It impressed me, but also scared me. What did an identity spell do, exactly? Was Mallory truly the Mallory I loved, or just a facade for this elaborate plan? "She might not even be mortal," Mallory added. "She revived me."

All eyes suddenly turned to me in complete shock.

"Better make yourself useful, then," Madison snapped.

"Enough," Cordelia warned. "Mallory, we need you. We need all of you."

"You're on your own with that shit," Dinah chimed in, backing away, "I'm not here to defeat anyone."

"How can any of you defeat me when I've already won?" Langdon's voice pierced the air. He stood upstairs with Ms. Mead at his side, the two of them towering menacingly over the rest of us.

And with his presence, the battle begun. Langdon addressed them as witches and offered for them to join him in his apparent plan to remake the world in the image of his "father," presumably Satan. I always had my suspicions that he was demonic, but this was all news to me. Michael Langdon was clearly some sort of antichrist, and all of these women were evidently powerful witches.

And then there's me, cowering behind them, trying to mentally process this information as the apocalypse as I knew it went from politically-charged nuclear war to supernatural battle between magical forces. I was scared—scared and confused.

I felt Mallory's hand sweetly grab mine. Despite this identity spell bullshit, and my lack of magical title, she was still there beside me.

Just as Dinah went to join Langdon's side, the actual Marie Laveau herself appeared out of nowhere and killed her. Then, Ms. Mead turned out to be a robot whose arm doubled as a firearm—but before she could open fire on us, Cordelia seemed to utter a single word that made her completely explode. At this explosion, we all crouched down, with both Cordelia and myself instinctively shielding Mallory.

Langdon became infuriated at the destruction of his precious sidekick, provoking Madison—despite Cordelia's warning—to grab Ms. Mead's severed arm-gun as a weapon. She completely blasted Langdon, seemingly killing him, but Cordelia warned that it wouldn't last, so Madison stayed to hold him off, sealing her own fate.

Myrtle approached Langdon's body and ripped out a lock of his silky blond hair, then gave it to Mallory.

"A personal item," Myrtle said. "Remember, dear. Focus on it. Use it to locate a time and place early in Michael's life."

Mallory nodded, knowledge seeming to wash over her. "Shed the ego. Disengage from this realm. Place myself there and say the words. _Tempus Infinituum._ "

"That's our girl," Myrtle declared proudly.

"We have to find a place to cast the spell before he wakes up," Cordelia said.

We all began running upstairs towards what I inferred to be the nearest bathroom, though I obviously didn't know why. As Mallory and I ran, hand in hand, a complete stranger of a man ambushed us and stabbed Mallory in the stomach.

"I should've been on that plane!" he exclaimed.

"No!" I screeched, clutching her body as she fell backwards onto me. Blood gushed from her abdomen and mouth.

Myrtle angrily yelled _Ignis_ and set the man on fire, killing him. Cordelia hastily muttered an incantation with her hand hovering over Mallory's wound, but it did not seem effective.

"Stay in there, Mal," I uttered shakily, "you're gonna be okay. It's gonna be alright." I held her face in my hands, stroking her soft cheeks. I couldn't bare to lose her twice in one day.

Cordelia let Mallory lie down as she exhaled into her, but again, nothing happened. Marie Laveau yelled a warning that Langdon was coming, so Myrtle and Cordelia each took one of Mallory's arms and I supported her body as we dragged her into the nearby bathroom.

I had no idea what the plan was, but I trusted these witches, so I helped them lower Mallory into a tub of water. She was motionless, pale, and her eyes were lifeless. I held her weak gaze, cradling her head in my arms as Cordelia and Myrtle chanted magical words methodically.

It broke my heart to see Mallory slowly dying and having no clue how she could possibly recover. I was scared she would be sacrificed in this strange ritual, or that these witches would fail their mission and we would all die. Tears trickled down my face as I caressed the skin around dried blood trails streaming from her mouth.

"It's okay baby," I murmured. Her eyelids fluttered weakly.

"Come on, Mallory, please," Cordelia croaked. "Look at me. You can do this," Cordelia repeated as Mallory still grasped Langdon's lock of hair. "It's not working. She's not strong enough."

"I'm sorry, Cordelia," Mallory whispered. Her body began to give up.

"No!" I exclaimed.

"It appears as though we're fucked, my dear," Myrtle morbidly stated.

My cheeks grew hot with panic and anger. "Isn't there anything you can do?" I angrily wailed to Cordelia. "You have to do _something!"_

Cordelia's hopeless gaze met mine. "There is something." She turned to Myrtle. "I love you." With that, she left the room.

I kissed Mallory's clammy forehead as her eyes flickered shut. "I don't understand any of this," I whispered sadly.

Myrtle's wise gaze was clouded by the threat of tears. "By sacrificing herself, Cordelia will allow her power to flow into Mallory. If successful, Mallory will surpass her as the new Supreme and her strength will be restored. Only then will Mallory be able to perform _Tempus Infinituum_ and reverse the events of this entire apocalypse."

This simple explanation gave me the first tinge of hope I had felt in nearly two years. "Time will be reversed?" I asked, my voice shaking.

Myrtle gave a single, grave nod. "If we are fortunate enough for this to work, the world will be restored to a time long before this. If this does not work... we will all die."

We could all hear Cordelia and Langdon confronting each other in the hallway.

I looked back into Mallory's eyes, which had fluttered open one last time. She seemed to understand what was happening, and she tried to speak.

"I lo..." she choked.

I nodded. "I know," I smiled. "When you defeat him..." I said, holding her face close to mine, "find me, on the other side. In the new world. Find me. And make me remember... please. Make me remember."

A tear fell from her eye, and her body finally went limp.

We heard a gasp and a stabbing noise. "Cordelia!" Myrtle wailed.

In that instant, Mallory's body sprung back to life. She gasped loudly, her eyes full of life once again. Immediately, she gripped Langdon's hair harder, and the bloody bath water began to bubble violently.

She pulled my face to hers with her free hand, kissing me with newfound strength. "I will make you remember," she breathed. Staring forward with determination, she yelled: _"Tempus Infinituum!"_

Mallory submerged herself completely in the dark bath.

As Michael yelled in defeat, and Myrtle looked on with anxious eyes, I watched the water engulf Mallory into darkness.

After a brief moment of silence, the world went black. And I, we, the world, this lifetime—it no longer existed.

• • •


	3. Daddy's Money

_| Mallory's POV | Flashback: arrival at the outpost. |_

• • •

I served Coco mineral water on a silver platter. In all my time spent as her groveling assistant, I had never felt so low until I was her actual servant—a Gray.

Sure, I was grateful to be alive. Coco's dependence on me and an extremely expensive plane ticket guaranteed my survival while billions of other people suffered and died throughout the world. But why me? I am nothing special. I am not one of the talented, famous, intellectual, or genetically superior elites here. Instead, I am just Mallory, a short girl in a dull, gray outfit with hair tied tightly into a vertical bun as I perpetually worked.

What was the point? My family was dead, the world was gone, I had no future, and my only "friends" were elite Purples who treated me worse than the dirt beneath their feet. I saw no point in living.

However, not long after our arrival at the outpost, a glimmer of purpose arrived—a reason to live.

"Calling Occupants Of Interplanetary Craft" by Carpenters played on repeat in the music room, as it always did. The Purples lounged on plush sofas or paced throughout the room, glasses of mineral water in hand. Most Grays were scattered throughout the outpost, preparing dinner or scrubbing floors, but of course I had a special place here in my personal hell, which was at Coco's side. Many refugees were voicing their distaste for our lack of musical variety.

"It's like Satan's Spotify playlist," Stu groaned, causing his lover Andre to laugh.

Suddenly, our attention was stolen by two strangers entering into the music room.

"Oh," Evie blurted with interest, "well, well, well. New blood."

"Come in. Don't be shy," Dinah smiled. "What are your names?"

The boy, in a Purple suit, introduced himself, his voice sounding weary. "Timothy." He feigned a friendly expression.

Timothy had short, dark hair and brown eyes. His skin was light but not fair. He seemed athletic and young—the kind of boy who might be a jock in high school, but with a kind heart.

"Emily," said the girl to his left.

She was a pretty girl with a confident aura, her skin a warm, lighter toned brown and her hair curly, voluminous, and dark to match her brown eyes. She was also a Purple. Both Timothy and Emily were certainly attractive enough to be models in a fashion magazine.

Mr. Gallant eagerly approached them. "What's happening out there?"

"It's all gone," Timothy informed, gazing down.

"Everything," Emily added, her expression sober and dark.

A girl then appeared from behind them, walking in and standing off to the side with her arms folded in contempt. She looked a bit roughed up. Nonetheless, while the other two newcomers were pleasing to the eye indeed, this girl was far more beautiful than anyone I had ever seen. She was tall and slim, her skin pale with a slight hint of freckles on her cheekbones. Her face was short and feminine but with a sharp jawline, and her small nose was angled upwards. Her eyes were beautifully glassy—gray and large like a doll's, but angry. Her lips were full, pink, and pouting. Her hair was a rich, dark auburn color and fell right above her shoulders in a cascade of large, full curls. Even further accentuating her beauty, her face was decorated by opal studs in both nostrils and a gold ring in her septum, accompanied by ears dripping with rings and studs.

She was in a Gray uniform, but her gray blouse collar was unbuttoned and splayed open, her sleeves were rolled up, and her apron was missing. Her exposed neck and arms revealed a canvas of black ink, with tattoos adorning her body like paintings. Unlike the other female Grays, her reddish brown hair was not tied into an upright bun and instead elegantly framed her face. Something told me that Ms. Venable was lucky to have coerced her into this costume at all, let alone follow the rest of the dress code.

The room was taken aback by her arrival. She looked so different from the rest of us, and she was clearly not fulfilling the role of a typical Gray.

"And, who are you, exactly?" Mr. Gallant flicked his wrist towards her with a condescending tone.

She rolled her eyes and walked right past him, plopping down onto an empty spot on one sofa across from where I stood, rubbing her temples. She took the glass of mineral water from off my platter and downed it.

Gallant scoffed, returning his attention to Timothy and Emily. "Okay, then. What are you in for?"

"What do you mean?" Emily asked, squinting.

"You know," Gallant prodded, "what got you the golden ticket? You rich?"

Timothy shrugged. "I believe the words they used were 'exceptional genetic makeup.'"

Gallant turned back towards the new Gray. "And the human embodiment of MySpace in 2008?" His eyebrows raised at her.

"Her name's Kat," Emily said, "she's my friend."

Coco chimed in loudly, "Oh, so screw the hundred million dollar ticket, am I right? Sounds like all you really need to get in here is friendship!" She squinted her eyes at the new Gray.

The girl, Kat, eyed Coco up and down. "No, actually, I'm sure a few blowjobs on some wrinkly dicks are what landed _you_ here." Her stony expression twitched into a mocking half-smirk, then she sniffed it away. "No," she corrected herself, "let me try again." She placed a finger on something invisible in the air. "Daddy's money. Bingo, right?" Kat's voice was low and husky.

Coco cocked her head. "Listen, bitch," she warned, "you're messing with the wrong one."

Kat didn't seem fazed by her threat in the least. Her attention turned to Mr. Gallant as he walked towards her.

"And if you haven't noticed, princess, Grays have a different place here. As in, not lounging on a couch in the music room. Shouldn't you be scrubbing toilets or something?" He crossed his arms expectantly.

I was mesmerized by her defiance. I think we all were. I had taken so much shit in my life, every single day, but she wasn't having any of it.

Ms. Venable strolled into the room from behind Timothy and Emily.

"All Grays are needed in the kitchen," she stated with a voice of authority. "Dinner will be served soon."

I picked up the silver platter I had been using and started to walk towards her, noticing Kat not moving an inch.

"Fist," Ms. Venable barked without hesitation, her eyes locked on Kat.

I continued through the doorway, passing The Fist as she entered the room. I looked back to see the giant warden grab Kat by the arm and forcibly guide her off the sofa and out of the room. I walked quickly to the kitchen, hearing Kat protest loudly the whole way.

"Ow!" Kat exclaimed. "Let go, you brute! What the fuck!"

I took my place in the kitchen, followed by The Fist carelessly shoving Kat into the room, causing her to stumble slightly.

Kat panted from her own struggling, eyes squinted at The Fist with resentment. Ms. Venable then entered and slowly approached Kat until their faces were nearly touching. Every working Gray looked on with curiosity.

"Listen to my instructions very carefully," Ms. Venable enunciated. "I am going to give you one day. If you cannot follow the rules of this outpost by the end of today, you will have to answer to a life of cancer-ridden cannibals and radioactive fallout. Fix your uniform, fix your hair, and get to work."

Kat gritted her teeth. I hesitantly approached and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, causing her to shrug it away and look at me from the sides of her eyes.

"Listen to her," I said softly. "There's no point in resisting." I didn't want to see her get punished.

After another few seconds of glaring Ms. Venable in the eyes, Kat begrudgingly turned away and joined the other Grays at the meal preparation counter.

Ms. Venable, satisfied, turned towards the door to leave. As she did, Kat angrily grabbed a case of meal cubes and went to turn them upside down.

"No, don't—!" But before I could stop her, Kat had poured the entire box of food onto the floor and threw the packaging to the side with a sharp thud.

Ms. Venable paused. She turned to face the scene, analyzing the spilled goods and Kat's defiant scowl.

"You're a goddamn imbecile," Ms. Venable remarked, seething. She nodded to The Fist.

"Wait, she's new," I pleaded, to no avail.

Within a split second, The Fist had thrown Kat to the floor and held a nightstick menacingly over her body. For the first time, Kat seemed to express a level of fear as she stared at this weapon-wielding giant.

Ms. Venable glared down upon the helpless girl. "I stand by my original statement. Continue to fail at your job and you _will_ be executed before nightfall. This is your last warning. You will not be eating tonight." She turned away once again to leave. "And I expect you to work to the best of your ability, no matter how much pain you're in."

With that, The Fist's nightstick came crashing down on Kat with a loud, dull _thud_ and a sickening cracking noise. I could feel my stomach drop to the floor as Kat choked out a pained cry.

The Fist promptly left, and Kat lay on the floor, shakily clutching her side in pain. The other Grays gawked at the scene, then continued busying themselves with dinner preparations. I crouched down to Kat.

"My God," I muttered, extending a helping hand. "Can you stand up?"

Her eyes flashed up to meet my gaze, and I could tell she was fighting back tears of pain. She managed to keep her eyes dry and her face stony, completely ignoring my extended hand.

"I'm fucking fine," she growled. She used one hand to grab the edge of the counter and the other to clutch her damaged side. She slowly stood up, small whimpers escaping her mouth as she did. Her breathing was ragged.

"Look," I said softly, "it's either cooperate in here or die out there." My tone was sympathetic and pleading. I wanted this girl to understand the severity of the situation. "Just stand here and they'll assume you're working." She stood silent with her eyes avoiding me, her hands pressing against her injury. "Here," I said, offering a glass of water. "I'll pick up the cubes. Just drink this. And please, listen to me. I can show you how to style your hair the way she wants it—just come see me in my room later. I can help."

Her gray eyes, glossed over from pain, flickered to meet my gaze. "And why the fuck should I trust _you?"_ she asked in a gravely hushed tone. "You have a hair dick on your head, for fuck's sake."

My eyes darted down to the floor, then back to hers. "You were right, by the way. Daddy's money. That's how Coco got us here." I bent down and began picking up the scattered cubes.

She snorted, then winced in pain. "Jesus Christ," she whispered.

"Oh no, honey," another Gray commented in passing, "Jesus Christ abandoned us a long time ago."

• • •


	4. Human First, Then A Witch Second

_| Mallory's POV |_

• • •

 _Remember, dear. Focus on it. Use it to locate a time and place early in Michael's life._

2015\. The day that Michael's guardian grew sick of his murderous antics and threw him out on the streets, leading him to seek out his true destiny as the antichrist.

I ran the motherfucker over.

The apocalypse never happened. We succeeded in turning back time and stopping Langdon's plans, but only I knew of it. There was something incredible about seeing the world restored and the people I loved alive. But there was also something incredibly lonely about carrying this secret, and I felt more emotionally alienated than ever before. Nevertheless, I had a mission to continue.

I joined the coven at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. My religious parents had already suspected me to be a devil worshipper after catching me floating in my sleep, and I had always seemed different from everyone else, so it was no shock when I immediately left my family to go to New Orleans and join the coven. Except, unlike last time—when I was confused and scared—this time, I was so excited to be reunited with my sisters and my home.

Cordelia was surprised when I hugged her upon first meeting. She claimed that it felt like we had met before, and that made me smile. There was so much I wanted to say to her, but I had to wait until the time was right. I had known these women for years but needed to act like I was truly meeting them all for the first time. Still, my knowledge and experiences seeped through at certain times. I persuaded Queenie not to travel to the Hortel Cortez, where she would have died otherwise. Nan—one of many underworld henchmen who were very impressed with me—returned Misty Day to the mortal world and hinted to Cordelia that I was to thank, further impressing her. I had this strange new advantage of knowing some aspects of the future and being able to alter people's fates, in a sense.

I followed along with our daily lessons, gradually showing my strong capability for witchcraft. I could feel that my powers were stronger than ever before, despite Cordelia still reigning as Supreme without any sign of fading soon. It seemed that I had carried all of my abilities to this restored timeline, and I wondered how powerful I would truly be when the time came for me to completely rise as Supreme, though I hoped it would not be any time soon.

For now, however, the coven took notice of my power and slowly began to suspect what I was capable of. I earned their trust and quickly regained my place in the sisterhood, with rumors of my potential for future Supreme status circulating rather quickly.

It was amazing to see Zoe and our other sisters alive once again. No one, except me, knew of the tragedy and desolation that had struck our world in another lifetime. However, with the alteration of the past, certain events would not occur. Myrtle would not be resurrected, nor would Madison. I planned to bring them back, but I had to wait for the right moment. Marie Laveau, too, would remain in the afterlife for now. Timothy and Emily would never fall in love, unless by some other circumstances, which I assumed was unlikely—and sad, because they were beautiful together. And I... I just had to learn to live with a broken heart.

Every single night, though, I suffered with vivid nightmares reminding me of the horror and despair that I had just fought to defeat. I saw flashbacks of that forgotten world and witnessed visions, occasionally, of future threats that lie ahead. I knew the Devil wouldn't just give up.

Over time, once I felt that Cordelia trusted me and was confident in my strength, I knew it was time for me to come clean. I could only hope that she would believe me.

I knocked softly on Cordelia's office door, though it was open. I peeked inside to see her sitting at her desk, reading paperwork.

"Oh Mallory, come in," she welcomed warmly, setting the papers down and folding her hands. "What brings you to see me?"

I smiled faintly and sat down in one of the chairs opposite of her. I took a deep breath.

"Cordelia... there's something I need to tell you. A lot, actually, that I need to tell you," I quietly stated, noticing her examine me with curiosity and concern. "But I have to ask you to trust me—and that if I'm completely honest with you, you will believe me." I stared into her eyes, trying to convey my deepest sincerity.

"Mallory," she replied, "I trust you, completely. I want you to know that you can be honest with me, no matter what."

I nodded, reassuring myself. "Do you know of _Tempus Infinituum?"_ I asked.

Her eyebrows knitted together slightly as she prodded her memory. "I have heard of the spell, but it has never been documented as successfully performed. A witch must be naturally gifted with this ability, not taught. Anyone who has attempted died in the process, and so it is believed to be a mere myth."

I inhaled. "Well, what if I told you that it _has_ been successfully performed, at least once? That our world nearly ended at the hands of the antichrist, and our coven was destroyed, until this spell was used and time was reversed?"

Cordelia's expression was a mixture of confusion and surprise. "Mallory, are you saying that you've performed this spell?"

I searched her eyes for any disbelief in my words, but she seemed to believe me, just with some trouble processing the idea.

I nodded slowly. "Yes. I did. I know that must be hard to believe, but—"

"I believe you," she stopped me, her tone careful and genuine. I instantly felt relieved at her support. "Since the day you arrived, I have felt that you are incredibly special, powerful—and with a story to tell. I want to know that story."

 _Here goes nothing._

So I told her. Everything. I explained how there was an alternate timeline similar to our own current world, where the antichrist rose up and threatened our coven and life as we knew it. I told her about the world ending in an apocalyptic war, my life in an underground bunker, and our battle to stop the Devil. I was sure to mention the hidden dangers that still exist in this new timeline: the Cooperative, Dinah Stevens, hundreds of Satanic cults, and so on.

"It was because of your sacrifice that I was able to ascend to Supremacy so quickly and perform _Tempus Infinituum_. We succeeded Cordelia—we won. I went back to 2015 and stopped him from ever rising to his position as the antichrist. That horrible world is now gone, thankfully, and I am back here in the past," I explained, feeling as if I had lifted a giant weight off my chest.

Cordelia met my gaze with wonder, captivated by the thought of there being an entirely different dimension in which the world ended.

"I have no words," she commented, seeming to see me in an entirely different light. "To imagine our coven obliterated, and this world completely destroyed... it's unsettling. Then to know that you are so incredibly powerful that you—"

"We," I corrected her softly.

" _You,"_ she insisted, "restored the entire world to order..." She shook her head. "I am amazed." She breathed deeply. "This does explain a lot. As I mentioned, you have always struck a strange sensation within me. I've felt as if I've known you forever, and that you're certainly destined to do great things within this coven. This explains your knack for predicting the future, although I had just assumed it was witch's intuition," she smiled, "and the way Nan seemed to bring Misty back in your honor."

Her pride put a small smile on my face, but it quickly faded as I continued.

"Cordelia, I'm afraid that—since the antichrist and end of times was all prophesied—our battle isn't over," I said lowly. "I have recurring nightmares about the hell I lived in that other lifetime, but sometimes I also get visions of what's to come."

She nodded in an austere manner. "Mallory, you are correct. The battle between good and evil is never over. You are an extremely powerful witch, and visions such as those tend to come naturally to individuals like yourself." She pulled open a desk drawer, retrieved a black journal, and set it on the desk in front of me. "I want you to record everything that you see with your mind's eye. The past, the present, the future—what you're seeing and feeling could be our window of opportunity for preventing the next attempted apocalypse far in advance. And if something particularly important appears to you—I want to know right away."

I picked up the journal and clutched it in my arms. "Yes, Cordelia." I began to stand up, but she stopped me.

"Mallory?" Cordelia inquired.

I settled back into the chair. "Yes?"

She searched my eyes for a moment. "There's another element to your story."

I was taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

Her expression was profoundly concerned. "I am sure that with the trauma you've lived through, and the pressure of carrying this information on your own, you're mentally drained. I worry about you. However, there's a different level of sadness in your eyes. Something beyond that pressure. I feel as though you've lost something important, and it pains you every day. What is that?"

My stomach dropped, and my gaze fell to the floor. Up until now, I had told myself that I would move on—that I'd forget and be okay. But Cordelia knew me, and she could see straight into my soul. It evoked all the feelings I'd been fighting. _Kat._

"I lost someone," I whispered, meeting her worried gaze. "Someone I met during the apocalypse. It all disappeared when I turned back time. I was in love with her." I felt slightly ashamed; throughout all my power, triumph, and strength in dealing with this entire situation, I was weak in this sense.

She gave a sympathetic smile. "We might live in a different time, but this is the same world. She is out there. You are still both the same people, just existing under different circumstances now—better circumstances."

I shook my head. "I've thought about this. She's back to living her life, and I want her to be happy. If I'm really this powerful and so involved in battling Satan himself... I can't risk hurting her." Cordelia frowned with empathy. "Besides," I exhaled, "it took us over eighteen months practically alone in an underground bunker—during the apocalypse—to even consider each other in that way. I just don't know if it's worth the heartbreak to even try."

Cordelia stood up from her chair and walked around the desk, sitting down in the chair next to mine. She took my hands between hers and warmly spoke.

"Now, I don't have much relationship experience," she chuckled slightly, "but I _do_ know a thing or two about heartbreak. You're never going to know unless you try." She squeezed my hands. "No matter how powerful you are in the art of witchcraft, you need to give yourself a break to feel, and to love."

I can't even express how her words made me feel. I didn't realize it, but I was waiting for permission to let myself feel—to be human first, then a witch second. To hear my mentor and idol Cordelia give me that permission to be vulnerable—it elicited a wave of emotions, namely excitement for the future.

Suddenly, a light bulb flicked on inside my head.

"Wait," I muttered, "I just remembered something. I think—" I squinted my eyes in thought, "I believe she might have been a witch of some sort."

This piqued Cordelia's interest. "Are you sure?"

I closed my eyes, confused by my own memory. "I don't know. I remember being poisoned and killed, but then it seemed as if she revived me, on her own, with the power of her mind. I forgot all about that."

"Well, you see," Cordelia exclaimed, "then it makes even more sense for you to reconnect with her. If she is potentially one of us, she could truly be safer here in the academy."

I smiled at the concept, then shook my head in defeat again. "Except she doesn't live anywhere near Louisiana. She's a student at UCLA."

This didn't even faze Cordelia. She thought for a moment, then looked back at her desk. She let go of my hands to retrieve the stack of papers she had been browsing earlier. She placed her hand on one handwritten letter in particular.

"I might have the perfect solution for you," she smiled in wonder. "See, as Supreme and Councilor, I often have to deal with diplomatic issues outside this coven—matters all over the country and the world that involve witchcraft. I recently received this letter from a rather growing coven in Los Angeles. With the publicity that our academy has received nationwide, witches are being discovered now more than ever before, and our sisters on the west coast are looking to assemble their own school—an extension of Miss Robichaux's Academy, but for those witches on the opposite end of the country."

"But I don't want to move to a different coven," I blurted, the idea frightening me.

"Oh, no, no," Cordelia insisted, "that's not what I'm saying at all. The coven in LA is only searching for guidance in correctly establishing a school for witchcraft. If anything, at least build a better connection between our coven and theirs. I planned to send a group of my girls to California to assist them for a while, but I was conflicted on who to send—I need Queenie and Zoe here as my fellow Councilors and academy instructors. Of course, I would never ask Misty to leave her beloved New Orleans, and the other girls are far too new and inexperienced to take on such a task. You, however, are clearly a good candidate for this. Those girls need your knowledge and experience—and who better than the next Supreme?"

My heart fluttered at the possibility. I could leave New Orleans for a while and help out another coven while living in the perfect place to reunite with Kat. Another small part of me was secretly excited for a new adventure—a change in scenery, a break from this antichrist business, and a chance to help myself, hopefully.

"Who would come with me?" I asked.

Cordelia hummed. "That's the tricky part. I'd like to send another experienced girl with you, and perhaps a newer sister as well, which leads me to ask a favor of you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Of course, Cordelia. What?"

"I don't suppose you could retrieve Madison back from Hell, could you?"

I smiled. "Actually, I can most definitely do that."

• • •


	5. Tragic, Isn't It?

_| Kat's POV | Flashback: 18 months at the outpost. |_

• • •

I sat on the edge of Mallory's bed, uncomfortable at the sight of her feeling so bothered after her interview with Langdon. She hadn't explained much, but ever since she spoke with him, I could tell she was pretty shaken up. I held a tentative hand to her back, trying to be supportive. I had never been good at comforting people. Hell, I wasn't good with emotions in general.

"What exactly happened?" I asked, trying to sound as soft as I could muster. "Did he touch you?" My voice hardened into a threatening tone. "I will fuck that bitch up, Mal."

The thought of him messing with her in that way made my other hand clench into a fist, and my lips pursed. The thought of _anyone_ taking advantage of Mal made my blood boil.

She looked up at me from behind her freshly washed hair and big glasses. I loved this dorky mouse, and I hated seeing her troubled.

"No," she replied. "It's not like that. He asked about the dark places in my soul." Her voice cracked.

"Oh," I replied, unsure if I should feel relief or more concern.

"The way he stared into my eyes, hungry for something..." she recollected, shaking her head at the ground. "I didn't think I had any dark places, but the closer he got and the more he interrogated me, the more I could feel a rage burning inside me." Her eyes scanned the floor. "I wanted to leave. He wouldn't let me." Her eyes started to water.

"It's okay," I said, moving my hand to hers and holding it. Her eyes flickered to our hands. In the moment, I didn't think about what I was doing, but it immediately felt so right. "Go on."

She met my gaze again, her eyes soaked with tears and vulnerability. "When I tried explaining this part to Coco and Gallant, they didn't believe me. I don't expect them to."

I squeezed her hand. "Just tell me. I believe you."

She stared back at me hesitantly, then continued. "When he grabbed my arm and I yelled for him to let go, he just... flew across the floor. Everything in the room shook violently, and all the candles went out so that we were in the dark." She carefully searched my eyes, which were admittedly a bit confused, then she continued. "He looked demonic, in that moment. Something otherworldly. Something hellish. But I wasn't scared, not in the least—of him, that is. I was very scared of myself. Something deep inside me was angry with him, even though I have no reason to be. I don't know how, but I made flames shoot from the fireplace."

I raised my eyebrows, exhaling. "Wow, Mal. That's definitely... something."

She dropped my hand and looked away. "I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"No, listen—I do. I'm sorry, I'm just shocked," I said, resting my hand on her forearm. "I believe you. Okay?"

"Kat," she squeaked, "I don't know who I am." A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"What do you mean?" I asked, wiping the tear away.

She was shaky. "I feel like someone is buried inside me. The things I felt in there—that power, that bravery, that darkness. At first, I felt like they weren't me. But what scares me even worse is that I'm realizing that feeling _is_ me. It's as if everything else is the lie." She paused. " _I'm_ a lie."

I turned her chin to face me. "You're not a lie. Maybe you're just discovering who you really are. Mallory, you're far more than just some rich bitch's personal assistant. You're so strong and resilient. You're kind-hearted and protective. You're so beautiful."

For a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me. In fact, my heart skipped a beat because I wanted nothing more than that. No one had ever affected me in this way; typically, if I was attracted to someone, I made the first move—I don't play games. But with Mallory, there was something more graceful about our relationship. It was like playing chess, and every time we talked or touched or stared into each other's eyes, we were strategically moving our pieces across the board, closer and closer to what we both wanted.

But she didn't kiss me. Instead, she leaned over and hugged me, tightly. I hugged her back, burying my face into her neck while holding her close to me.

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

The time came for my turn to be interviewed by Michael Langdon.

I sat, scowling impatiently, in a chair across from where he stood. He scanned over some papers in his hands then dropped them onto his desk. I could already agree with Mallory that there was something unnerving and almost supernatural about his presence. He had long, thick blond hair that framed his chiseled face. His eyes were a glossy blue, yet exuded darkness. He wore a black suit and spoke deeply with careful deliberation, his expression always either deadly serious or crazed with intention. He seemed both angelic and demonic in the same fashion.

"Kathryn," Langdon began.

I gritted my teeth. "Do not call me that," I warned.

He smiled for whatever reason. "I admire your tenacity."

"Ugh," I sighed. "Listen, you oversized Jasper Cullen." His blond eyebrows raised. "I have a feeling you already know exactly who you want to bring to this 'Sanctuary,' and nothing I can say during a brief interview will change whatever judgment you already have for me." I waved my hand. "So if we could skip the small talk and get straight to whatever bullshit you actually want to know, that would be swell." I glared.

Michael strolled over to where I sat, stopping to tower above me with a creepily analytical expression. His patient silence made me squirm.

"You're in love with Mallory," he smirked.

My stomach felt as if it had risen to my throat.

"Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed.

"No need to lie, Kathryn—Kat, my apologies," he said with a grin, his apology clearly sarcastic. "I know it, you know it. Hell, Mallory may be the only person in this entire outpost who _doesn't_ know it." He laughed. "Tragic, isn't it? You seem like the kind of girl who always gets what she wants. And _who_ she wants."

I bit my lip. He crouched down in front of me, his eyes level with mine.

"Interesting," he remarked, assaulting my eyes with his own. "Even though I know you are deeply in love with Mallory, and even though I can feel your strong distaste for men in general, why do I sense that you'd love nothing more than for me to throw you onto this floor and fuck you senseless?"

My breath hitched nervously. "You wish," I barked, but it came out as a whisper.

His hands crept their way onto my knees, his grip strong and menacing. A muffled voice in the back of my mind yelled for me to get out. I knew I should have been scared. I should have _wanted_ to run. But I didn't.

"Unlike the others in this outpost, you are the first I've encountered with a _truly_ dark soul," he whispered, his face moving closer to mine. "No one, not even Mallory, knows of the darkness that haunts your mind, and your heart. But I can feel it radiating from your core." His voice was low and powerful. "Perhaps it's why you struggle to love."

I hated this feeling of him exposing my vulnerability. It felt as if he had sliced my body open and was examining everything hidden deep within. I wanted to push him away, slap him—at least say _something._ But I didn't. I couldn't. Before I could realize what I was doing, my hands rose to touch his face. His lips were barely an inch away from mine.

A quiet creak sounded from the room's entrance. Our eyes darted to the slightly parted sliding doors, where someone stood in observation.

It was Mallory.

Her expression was numb and apathetic, but her eyes were wide with surprise. After the split second that our eyes met, she ran off.

"Oh my," Langdon muttered with a sinister smile.

I pushed past him, standing up to go after her. He grabbed my arm tightly.

"Don't be a fool, Kathryn," he commanded lowly. "We have to finish what we started."

I yanked my arm away. "Go to hell," I muttered, leaving the room. "And don't fucking call me that," I spat.

I found Mallory's bedroom door shut and locked. I knocked softly.

"Mal?"

No response, but I knew she was in there. I had never felt so shitty in my life. I wasn't even quite sure why, but I felt like I had betrayed her in some way.

"Mal, can I talk to you?"

Slowly, the doorknob turned and the door opened to reveal Mallory, her face flat with disappointment. She blocked the doorway.

"You don't have to say anything," she said quietly. "It's not like you have anything to apologize for."

"Yes, I do," I argued, gently pushing the door open and letting myself in. She stepped back, and I shut the door behind us. "I'm really sorry," I said. My eyes wandered to the floor. "I honestly have no idea what was happening back there. I don't know what he was doing, or what I was doing. I didn't want it."

"Could have fooled me," she muttered, her eyes like daggers. "But I get it, Kat. He's an attractive man, and you want a spot in The Sanctuary. Why not, right?" Her voice was soaked in sarcasm.

I sighed. "I don't care about The Sanctuary. Yeah, he's hot," she rolled her eyes, "but it was more like... he had control over me." I was still perplexed, projecting my thoughts out loud.

"I don't care, Kat." Her glare was unforgiving. "Fuck him for all I care. It's none of my business."

I had honestly never heard Mallory take on such a brazen tone. She shook her head and went to grab the doorknob.

"I gotta get back to work," she mumbled.

"Mallory, wait," I pleaded, blocking the door. "I really am sorry."

"For what?" Mallory asked flatly. She was right, though. What exactly were we arguing about? "Do you think I'm jealous?"

I shrugged slightly. "Are you?"

She laughed in disbelief. "You just think everyone wants to fuck you, don't you, Kat?" Mallory scoffed, but her eyes seemed to exude sadness.

"Not everyone," I replied quietly. "Not the one person I want."

Her expression sobered at my remark. The tension between us was tangible, and there's no way she _didn't_ realize I was talking about her. Yet, her eyes searched mine expectantly.

"Who?" Mallory asked, barely audible, almost sounding as if she didn't want to find out.

I blinked. "I think you know."

She shook her head. "Well, I don't."

She went around me and left the room. I stood there, my fists clenched. Why didn't I kiss her? Why didn't I at least _tell her_ how I felt? Why can't I get past my own tough ego and just show some real emotion? _Perhaps Michael was right, after all._

I left Mallory's room and shut the door. As if my thoughts had summoned him, Langdon stood nearby with a mischievous air.

"Pity," he declared with a devilish smirk. "It appears you don't always get what you want after all."

• • •


	6. I Like Your Face

_| Kat's POV |_

• • •

A painting of what seemed to be a cluster of colorful boobs flashed on the projector ahead. The geriatric Dr. Whitman sat, utterly uninterested, clicking through these images for the class in silence. Our task was to write down our interpretations of these modern art pieces, essentially for bonus points. The semester was practically over, and summer was on literally everyone's mind.

I leaned over slightly to Emily to my left, speaking out the side of my mouth. "That's a bunch of boobs, isn't it?"

Dr. Whitman peered over her reading glasses, glaring right in our direction through the dimly lit auditorium.

She snickered, tilting her head. "I was thinking more like... a bouquet of boobs," she whispered.

I squinted my eyes. "That _is_ a bouquet, isn't it?" I nodded, furiously writing down "bouquet of boobs" on my paper.

"No need for discussion," Dr. Whitman grumbled from the front of the room, sounding as if she would croak at any moment.

I rolled my eyes. The image ahead changed to a grayscale picture of a clearly suggestive female silhouette, except distorted and with an unrecognizable creature's head.

I heard a snort from my right.

"Whitman's certainly got a hard-on for the ladies," Aubrey whispered, her voice far too innocent and sweet for such a comment.

I smirked in Aubrey's direction. "Can you blame her? Women are hot."

Aubrey slightly rolled her bright blue eyes, definitely accustomed to my constant gay remarks. If you're going to be friends with me, it's something you just get used to. Dr. Whitman slowly sighed while still glaring in our direction.

"Women are alright," she whispered back.

 _God, how I wish women were more than just "alright" to her._

I discreetly watched as she wrote down her interpretation. Her platinum blonde hair fell in delicate waves around her fair face as she wrote. Her hands looked so smooth and delicate, her long nails manicured and painted red to match her lips. I looked at my plain nails, which were practically nonexistent. Her wrists and fingers were adorned with dangling designer jewelry, while mine were painted with black tattoos. She seemed so clean and polished and unblemished.

"Date?"

I froze. "What?"

"Shh!" Aubrey warned, gesturing towards the board. I looked up to see a painting of two colorful, distended humanoid shapes seeming to sit across from each other in outer space. "Looks like they're on a date," she whispered.

"Oh," I replied, my cheeks burning. "Right."

"Last one," Dr. Whitman mumbled without looking up.

The projector flickered to reveal a red apple with dozens of needles full of green, presumably poisonous sludge impaling the fruit. A ghostly skull shape lingered in the background. I wasn't sure why, but the sight made me feel incredibly uneasy. It was a sickening feeling of déjà vu, and somehow my mind associated the image with gut-wrenching fear. I kept staring at it until Emily's voice pierced through my mental haze.

"Obviously a representation of all the chemicals and hormones being pumped into our food," she remarked matter-of-factly while packing away her notebook. "Like that coffee shop north of campus that supports child labor and uses GMO beans, am I right? Kat?"

"Hm?" I mindlessly scribbled my answer down. "Oh, yeah."

I grabbed my backpack and got up to turn in the assignment, Emily and Aubrey doing the same.

"Halloween, huh?" Aubrey pointed to my paper. "Interesting. I can see how you'd get those vibes from it."

I glanced down at my paper. Sure enough, that's what I wrote for the apple picture. I didn't exactly recall consciously writing it, but I suppose Halloween did fit the image.

We handed our papers to an unimpressed Dr. Whitman then left the auditorium. In the hallway, Emily walked between me and Aubrey, purposely bumping her shoulders against ours excitedly.

"So, Wave tonight?" Emily grinned.

I smiled back. "Hell yeah."

Aubrey wrinkled her nose playfully. "I'll come to the gay bar for, like, an hour then we're going to some normal places. Deal?"

Emily and I both rolled our eyes. "Yes, Aubrey. Trust me, I want to go to Jack's, too," Emily responded.

After a bit of walking, we all parted ways as Emily headed to her next class and Aubrey went to her sorority house. I had time to kill, so I decided to walk back to my apartment. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I checked it to find a lengthy novel of a text message from my mother, who decided it would be a great time to lecture me on spending habits. Irritated, I began busily typing away a sarcastic response about how she was right and that I should take lessons from her habit of marrying rich old men on the brink of death in order to secure financial stability.

Engulfed in my angry typing in the bright sunlight, I was startled when a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me backwards as a bike whizzed past, extremely close to me. Had I not been pulled back, I probably would have been pummeled. The cyclist yelled some inaudible curse word at me as he rode out of sight. Apparently I started crossing the road at a bad time.

I turned around to find the hand attached to a girl.

"Are you alright?" she asked with a concerned yet friendly expression.

Still processing the situation, I brushed off the leaves that had been blown onto my pants with the rush of wind.

"I'm fine," I replied, realizing I sounded a little defensive. "Thanks," I said with a forced smile, turning to continue crossing the street.

"Hey, wait," the girl called out, catching up to me.

I presumed the girl to be a freshman, probably in need of directions or friends, and I silently wished to avoid small talk. Nevertheless, I slowed down slightly and let her walk alongside me.

"Sorry, I'm new in town," she claimed, and I pretended to look interested. "I'm looking for the campus bookstore."

I briefly eyed her up and down. She was several inches shorter than me and dressed in a lacy white sundress. Her long, wavy hair was a dark, blondish ombré and adorned by a golden hair piece. Her face was extremely youthful with big brown eyes lined with light eyeliner and small, glossed lips. I mentally admitted that she was cute, for sure, but undoubtedly heterosexual, most likely a hippie, and far too sweet for her own good.

I pointed across campus. "If you walk down this street, you'll see Barnes & Noble right by the Life Sciences building."

She smiled. "Perfect," she said, holding my gaze for a moment too long.

I cleared my throat. "Well, uh, I'm going to head this way now."

She nodded happily. "Thanks," she said, and with that, went on her way.

I briefly watched as she walked away, the bottom of her white dress swaying in the breeze. I considered her an odd character, but an intriguing one.

• • •

 _| Mallory's POV |_

• • •

I rushed through the doors of the Bishop's Coven house, heading straight for Madison's room. I opened the door to find her lounging on her temporary bed, reading a beauty magazine of some sort.

"How would you like to go out tonight?" I asked her, a little short-winded from my excited rush.

She glared from over her magazine. "First of all, sweetie, knock next time." She cut her eyes. "Second of all, are you asking me out on a date?" She gawked at me as if I had every STD in the book.

I wrinkled my nose. "What? No, I'm asking if you want to go to a bar tonight."

"Oh," she chimed pleasantly. "Then hell yes. An eternity of living in my own personal nightmare has left me parched for a night of hard liquor and drunken make-out sessions with Californian men." She smiled at the ceiling with a dreamy expression.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Perfect," I replied, turning to leave.

"Oh, Mallory," she stopped me. "Will you need to borrow some—" she analyzed my appearance "— _stylish_ clothes for tonight?"

My eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion as I looked at my own white sundress and sandals. "What's wrong with this?"

"Sweetheart, you look like a single lesbian mom who doesn't use deodorant," she snickered.

I cut my eyes, exiting the doorway. "I think I'm okay, but thanks."

"Wait, wait!" Madison exclaimed, rolling off the bed and coming after me. She pulled me inside the room until I was standing in front of her closet. "Look," she said softly, "dying a couple times and being in Hell has made me sorta vow to be, you know..." she cringed while searching for words.

I raised my eyebrows. "Nice?"

She held a hand over her mouth as if she were going to vomit. "Yes," she breathed, "that. I'm not really sure what that is supposed to entail, so why don't you let me start by dressing you up so you can catch the eye of some cute... possibly visually impaired Californian boy?" She forced a crooked smile.

In my mind, I was laughing at her assumption that I wanted to impress _boys_ , when my current situation was entirely different.

See, Madison didn't know that I was seeking out a girl in Los Angeles, or anything else about the apocalypse ordeal. All she knew was that I helped raise her from the dead as the upcoming Supreme candidate, and that Cordelia needed her to help this coven in California. So, after a bit of preparation, Madison, Coco, and I all traveled to Los Angeles and made ourselves at home in the Bishop's Coven communal house.

I sighed and offered a small shrug. "Okay. Why not?"

She grinned in triumph, throwing her closet door open to reveal the surprisingly overflowing wardrobe she had brought to California.

"Now, what's this bar like?" Madison pondered thoughtfully. "High end? Trashy?"

I shrugged. "I think it's a gay bar."

She groaned. "Mallory, how are we supposed to meet hot guys at a _gay_ bar?" She bit her cheek. "Eh, I mean free drinks are free drinks, even if it's lesbians buying them for me. Wait," she glanced at me in confusion, "why exactly _are_ we going to a gay bar?"

I shrugged again, trying not to look suspicious. "I heard it's a fun place. I figured we could all use some fun."

She squinted at me, then gave up. "Here," she said, picking out a black bralette, fishnet crop top, and black miniskirt. "Don't wear the angelic gold jewelry with it."

I examined the three tiny articles in her hands. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, shoving the clothes into my arms. "You're right. Here." She added a pair of black stiletto heels to the pile. "Don't get any stains, unless it's semen. And don't wear underwear. You're welcome." She sighed as if her charity work was truly exhausting.

I blinked. "Thanks."

"I would say any time but this is a one time thing," she smiled in contentment.

I left her room, passing Coco and one of the local coven's witches on the way. The witch's name was Sarah, and she reminded me a bit of Zoe—young, but a good leader. She had straight, long blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a curvaceous body shape.

"Special event tonight?" Sarah asked with a smirk, eyes fixated on the raunchy outfit in my arms.

"Going out to a bar," I answered. "Madison decided to offer some fashion assistance."

"Mm," she replied, "she seems like the type."

"Did you guys want to tag along?" I asked.

Coco replied, "I'd love to but I actually agreed to learn some spells from some of the other girls tonight."

"We'll be sure to catch you next time," smiled Sarah.

A few hours later, after eyeballing the borrowed clothes, I breathed deeply and decided to shower and get dressed. Night had fallen and we would be leaving for the bar soon. Madison was slightly smaller than me, so I had to squeeze a little, but ultimately everything fit. I felt utterly naked, and I certainly did not look like myself. Yet, it felt a little empowering to look different. Kat didn't know me, so if I was going to make a "first" impression, might as well make it a memorable one.

I knocked on Madison's door to check if she was ready. She opened it, and I saw she was wearing a tight blue dress with a plunging neckline and matching wedges.

"Jesus fucking _Christ!"_ Madison exclaimed, her eyes wide at the sight of me.

"What?" I asked, worried, as I began to check myself over.

"You're _hot!"_ she declared.

My cheeks flushed with heat, and I couldn't help but let a small, bashful smile slip.

"Thanks," I murmured.

"I'm a miracle worker, I swear," she happily chimed to herself, grabbing her clutch purse and phone. "Our Uber's here," she added.

Upon arrival at Wave, Madison immediately left my side to mingle with the older butch women at the bar, no doubt trying to score her first free shot of the night. I casually made my way to the opposite end of the bar and scanned the room for Kat.

Then I saw her.

God, she was beautiful. I had always found her beautiful, but something about seeing her thriving—happy, dancing with friends—showcased a new facet to her beauty that I could have never seen in that outpost. During the apocalypse, we lived in a world of gray, bleak desolation. Through it all, she was beautiful, but now—in this world of color and hope—she was gorgeous beyond belief.

I had found her on her college campus earlier that day, admittedly using my abilities in a slight sense to track her down and find out her plans. It absolutely killed me to see her, even _touch_ her, and then have to walk away as if I had no idea who she was. I wanted to hug her, kiss her, rejoice in the fact that we can have a normal life together—finally tell each other the things we never got to say. Something naive inside me wanted her to see me and miraculously remember, but I knew that was impossible. Even so, logic couldn't prevent my disappointment.

Nevertheless, there she was, dancing with her friends, and the sight made my heart flutter. She wore a simple black, flowy top that revealed her tattoos and tight black pants with classic Converse. Her dark makeup accentuated her pale skin and reddish brown hair.

A platinum blonde girl in a colorful cocktail dress danced closer to her, turning around so that she was grinding up against Kat, their hands all over each other. A wave of jealousy flooded me, and in that moment, Kat's eyes met mine. I turned back towards the bar, cursing myself for staring.

• • •

 _| Kat's POV |_

• • •

I was three amaretto sours into the night and dancing without a care. Wave had an exquisite light-up dance floor with smoke machines and the best club music in town. I loved it.

As she often did after a few drinks, Aubrey began dancing close to me, eventually turning around and moving her body against mine to the rhythm. It was moments like this that made my heart both soar and drop. Her hands were on mine, moving them around her body as her head leaned back against me. She was grinning, her eyes shut. I knew she was drunk, but the way she always gravitated towards me, and this connection between us—it made crushing on my best friend even harder.

My eyes flicked up to the bar, where I made eye contact with someone. I thought she looked familiar, but she immediately looked away. I pried my tipsy memory until I recalled that she looked like the girl that saved me from the bike earlier that day.

I leaned into Aubrey's ear. "I'll be right back."

She giggled and shifted away from me. "Alrighty," she chirped, dancing towards Emily.

A crowd of people began dancing right in my way, and I struggled to push past them. Once I finally did and walked up the bar, the girl wasn't there anymore.

I leaned against the countertop, staring down as I contemplated between drinking more or retreating back to the dance floor.

"Can I buy you a drink?" A voice sounded from behind me.

I whipped around to see that girl, which admittedly put a small smile on my face.

"Hey, it's you," I commented, trying to keep my nonchalant air about me.

Earlier that day, I allowed myself to think she was cute, but now she certainly struck me as hot. Whether it was her skimpy black skirt and fishnet top or the alcohol on my brain, I was certainly more receptive.

"And it's you," she replied with a smirk. She walked up next to me and flagged the bartender down. "What would you like?"

"I wouldn't mind a tequila sunrise," I smiled back.

As she ordered the drinks, I watched her, feeling a sense of familiarity.

"Hey, do I know you?" I asked, forced to be loud over the music.

She gave me an odd look at first, then smiled warmly. "We kinda met earlier today. My name's Mallory," she said, extending her hand.

I shook her hand, still gazing at her with curiosity. "I'm Kat," I replied, "and I remember, but I suppose I mean besides that."

Just as she did on campus earlier, she seemed to hold my gaze deeply in a way that intrigued me.

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," she answered softly.

I felt like she was hiding something. This was the second time we had conveniently bumped into each other, and I could sense a connection between us. Then again, that's what my gay ass thinks every time I meet a cute girl.

The bartender set our drinks down in front of us.

"Maybe so," I replied, sipping on my drink. "It's a nice face," I added, immediately covering my eyes with my hand. _Kat, you're a goddamn idiot. Stop talking, you're drunk._ But out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mallory looking down sheepishly, a huge smile on her face. "I'm sorry," I said. "I've had some alcohol."

She chuckled at me, her eyes twinkling. "I like your face, too." I found her low voice attractive.

Something about her smile captivated me. It made me smile back without realizing it.

Suddenly, an arm hooked around the back of my neck. It was Aubrey.

"I thought I lost you," she said in her chirpy voice, grinning. I could smell the vodka on her breath. "You coming back to dance?" I glanced at Mallory, who was sipping her drink. "Please," Aubrey pouted, her face merely inches away from mine.

That's the thing with Aubrey—no matter how truly straight she was, no matter how many times she dodged my flirty comments, no matter how obvious it was that I genuinely had feelings for her—she would always use my emotions to manipulate me into getting what she wanted, which was usually attention.

I shot an apologetic look to Mallory. "I mean—"

"It's fine," Mallory insisted, but her smile was bittersweet. She certainly seemed disappointed as Aubrey pulled me way from the bar.

I followed Aubrey for a few steps, then stopped. _Fuck this. I don't deserve to waste my time on someone who will never love me back._

"Sorry, but I'm gonna go talk with that girl for a little while," I told her.

"Kat," she whined, but I ignored it, leaving her near the dance floor.

I walked back to the bar where Mallory still stood, fingers tracing the rim of her cup idly. Her eyes lit up at the sight of me. The music was loud, so I leaned in close to her ear.

"Do you want to find somewhere more private to talk?"

The corners of Mallory's mouth perked up into a beaming smile. "Yes, I do."

• • •

 **A/N:** Stay tuned for the next chapters—witchcraft, love triangles, secrets, confessions... loads of fun ahead.

• • •


End file.
